بَدا فَأَراكَ الشَّمْسَ في الغُصْنِ النَّضْرِ

وعَيْنَيْ مَهاةِ الرَّمْلِ في القَمَرِ البَدْرِ

The sun appeared to me in the green branch,

And the eyes of the gazing doe in the full moon.

هِلالُ دُجىً لَوْلا الخَلاخِلُ في الشَّوى

وظَبْيٌ نَقا لَوْلا المَناطِقُ في الخَصْرِ

A new moon in darkness, were it not for the anklets’ tinkling,

And a gazelle, delicate, were it not for the girdles at her waist.

ويَنْظُمُ عِقْدَ الشَّوْقِ تِيهاً ونَخْوَةً

بِياقُوتِ خَدٍ فَوْقَ دُرٍّ مِنَ الدُّرِ

And he strings the necklace of longing, confused and tender,

With rubies on a cheek, above a porcelain vase.

ومُسْوَدّ صِدْغٍ فَوْقَ مُحْمَرِّ وَجْنَةٍ

تَرى ذَاك مِنْ مِسْكٍ وهاتيكَ مِنْ خَمْرِ

And darkened temples over reddened, rosy cheeks,

Where musk can be seen, and here is wine.

فَكَمْ يا غَراماً جَائِراً تَرْشُقُ الحَشا

بِأَسْهُمِ وَجْدٍ مِنْ فِراقٍ ومِنْ هَجْرِ

So how, O passionate love, do you pierce the heart,

With arrows of passion, of parting and estrangement?

وقَفْتُ فؤادي بَيْنَ هَمٍّ وحَسْرَةٍ

بِذِكْرٍ لَهُ يَجْري وطَيْفٍ لَهُ يَسْري

I stopped my heart between sorrow and regret,

With memories flowing and visions wandering.

ويا طَيْفُ أَنّى بِتُّ بِتَّ مُضاجِعي

كَأَنَّكَ ما قَدْ سارَ في الأَرْضِ مِنْ ذِكْري

O specter, how you spend the night in my bed,

As if you had not disappeared from the land and my thoughts.

عَدِمْتُكَ يا مَنْ رَامَ شِعْري سَفاهَةً

مَتى كُنْتَ مِنْ أَقْرانِ هاروتَ في السِّحْرِ

I wished you gone, O you who mocked my poetry foolishly,

When were you ever like Harut in sorcery?

وِدادي لَهُمْ دانٍ وأَمّا وِدادَهُمْ

فَفي عُنُقِ العَنْقاءِ أَو مِنْسَرِ النَّسْرِ

My love for them is lowly, while their love

Is for the long-necked gazelle or baby ostrich.

وأُمْسِكُ سَهْمَ العَتْبِ بَيْنَ أَنامِلي

وأُغْمِد صَمْصَامَ المَلامَةِ في صَدْري

And I hold back the arrow of reproach in my fingers,

And sheathe the sword of blame in my chest.

وما يُحْسِنُ الخِلْخالُ في السّاقِ يَدَّعي

بِأَنَّ لَهُ حُسْنَ القِلادَةِ في النَّحْرِ

The anklet on the leg pretends

To have the beauty of the necklace at the throat.

كَأَنَّ القَنا تَلْقاهُ مِنْ أُنْسِهِ بِها

بِتُفّاحَتَيْ خَدٍّ ورُمّانَتَيْ صَدْرِ

As if the grapevine received from its intimacy

Apples of the cheek and pomegranates of the breast.